Drabbling in Your Love 2
by RosieG
Summary: Continuing my drabble series. The previous collection was getting out of hand, so I decided to start a second one.
1. Chapter 1

Prompt from tumblr user queenwithsmoak: What about people who don't know oliver is the arrow (like lance/laurel ...) observe a tender moment btw him (as arrow) and felicity maybe even a kiss!? (after he saved her or a really dangerous mission where they worked together with lance or laurel or anyone else ... ) :D

* * *

Quentin Lance is definitely one for minding his own business. His motto is pretty much, "You don't wanna tell, I don't wanna know."

But he _does_ wonder about Felicity Smoak.

The girl is smart. Crazy smart. And loyal. Honestly, most days Quentin is relieved to know she's out there, helping The Arrow do his thing, because as long as Felicity Smoak is on the job, the city is safe.

He worries about her though. He worries that The Arrow is using her, or that even if he isn't, that she might get caught in the cross-hairs one of these days. She's been put into a whole bunch of dangerous situations. He's witnessed a few himself, and can only imagine how many more times she's had her life threatened that he _doesn't_ know about.

So as much as he generally tries to keep his nose out of it, when he finds out Ms. Smoak has been kidnapped by the Triad, he reads the vigilante the riot act.

"How could you let this happen to her?!"

"Detective, now's not the time." The Arrow's modulated voice is strained.

"My ass, now's the time! That girl is too good for you! She should be out, getting drinks with her friends, meeting a nice boy, living a normal life! Instead, she's saving your ass on a regular basis, and you don't even have the decency to make sure she stays sa-"

"_Detective!_" The aggravated roar makes him fall silent. He sees the vigilante take a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft, desperate.

"I know," he says, tucking his chin down into his chest. "Believe me, I know. And if I could, I'd make her quit. I'd make her leave, go do something else. Find a better life. But I know her. She won't go and I -"

Quentin frowns.

"I don't want her to."

Ah.

The silence stretches out on the rooftop between them. Finally, he shuffles his feet and takes a step back. "Okay, big guy," he says. "I'll get a detail together. If you've got a plan, I've got the men. Just - don't worry. We'll get her back."

The Arrow drops his shoulders and nods. "Thank you," he says, and then he's gone.

Later, after the raid, after they've read rights to more Triad members than they've ever managed to round up at a time, Quentin spots The Arrow on one of the rooftops nearby.

He's holding onto Felicity like she's his anchor, and maybe she is. She's definitely more than just tech support, and when he sees The Arrow lean down and kiss her, his hood hiding the moment from the rest of the world, Quentin thinks he might get it after all.

He shakes his head and gets into his car. "You don't wanna tell, I don't wanna know," he mutters to himself, but he's smiling as he turns the key in the ignition.


	2. Chapter 2

Anonymous on tumblr requested: olicity (or smoaking canarrow) lair sex. and someone, probably digg, walks in. **Warning: Explicit.**

* * *

Felicity on her knees between his legs was pretty much the fulfillment of every wet dream he'd had for months.

Bright orange nails scraped up and down his thighs, digging into his skin, as her head moved up and down, perfect fuschia lips creating a delectable "o" around his cock.

She swirled her tongue around the head as she moved one hand to grip his base, tasting him, running her tongue over his slit, and Oliver dropped his head back against Felicity's chair with a groan. His hands were tangled in her hair, and she lowered herself back down again, until he could feel himself pressing against the back of her throat.

Oh god… He was going to come. He could feel it at the base of his spine, building, and he ground out Felicity's name, trying to warn her. She just grinned and kept going, giving him permission, and if that wasn't the fucking hottest thing he'd ever-

The loud clang of the foundry door opening made them both freeze, and Oliver caught Felicity's eyes, staring up at him in mirrored horror.

"Oh,_ fuck_," he murmured, and then they were both moving frantically. Felicity pulled off of him with a _pop_, and Oliver clenched his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He stood, gingerly tucking himself back into his pants, as Felicity got up, buttoning her blouse back up as quickly as she could. She shooed Oliver away from her chair and sat down quickly, making herself look busy and Oliver just managed to move behind her to hide his still raging hard on, as Diggle walked into the room.

There were fifteen seconds of silence, where Felicity and Oliver both very pointedly didn't look at him, and then John cleared his throat.

"Okay, if this is a thing that's going to be happening, we're going to have to lay down some ground rules."

Oliver finally turned, trying to look nonchalant. He opened his mouth to speak, but John held up a hand, stopping him.

"Don't. You've got lipstick on your ear, and Felicity, you missed like three buttons." Felicity's cheeks flushed a really attractive shade of red as she took in her shirt, turning away to fix it, and Oliver rubbed at his ear, fingers coming away stained pink.

Diggle sighed. "Just…" He shook his head.

"We'll talk about this later. I'm outta here."

He turned and left, footfalls heavy on the staircase, and Oliver could have sworn her heard Diggle mutter, "Like rabbits, I swear to God…"


	3. Chapter 3

My best friend on tumblr (raetherandom) was apparently high as fuck (because that is LITERALLY the only explanation) and prompted: Sharknado Olicity AU. WARNING: COMPLETE AND TOTAL FUCKING CRACK IN WHICH OLIVER IS THE WHITE DOUCHEBAG DIGG IS THE TOKEN BLACK GUY AND FELICITY IS THE ONLY ONE WHO MAKES ANY SENSE

* * *

Felicity watched on in horror as the colossal tunnel of wind and water and fucking _sharks _got closer.

"How is this even a thing that's happening?!" she yelled, holding the rifle Diggle had given her to her shoulder. They were stranded on top of a bus out in the middle of the Glades. The water was rising around them, fins of Great Whites, and Tiger Sharks, and every single species in between circling them, just waiting for one of them to misstep.

Oliver was trying to shoot a zipline that they could use to escape, but he didn't have enough cord and they were out of reach. His green leathers clung to him as he looked around in desperation.

A high pitch scream sounded from somewhere to their right, followed by several explosions, and suddenly the buildings around them were on fire? How?

And the tornado drew closer.

IT WASN'T EVEN FUCKING RAINING. There wasn't a cloud in the sky!

"The science doesn't make any sense!" Felicity screamed, as a shark leaped from the water, over the roof of the bus, and splashed down on the other side, just missing them.

"Felicity," Oliver growled out, "We're going to have to swim for it."

Diggle nodded, strapping his own M-16 onto his back. The tornado was now close enough that she could see the sharks falling from the gale-winds into the flooded streets below.

"Are you out of your fucking green mind?!" she screamed.

Oliver shook his head. "Listen, my father was killed by sharks…"

"No he wasn't, he _shot _himself!"

Oliver frowned. "That's not the point. The point is, we can't let them win."

"They're SHARKS. If we swim out into the water they WILL win. They will EAT us."

Oliver stepped right up into her personal space, gripping her face and leaning down for a passionate kiss.

He pulled away, looking determined and strapping his bow to his back as Felicity just stared at him in complete bemusement.

"Let's hope it's not that time of the month," he said, before grabbing her hand and leaping from the bus.


	4. Chapter 4

Prompt from tumblr user rigormortisboy: Umm cheer up prompt! Oliver having fun with the voice modulator. "Luke, I am your father" etc.

So I already thanked them on tumblr, but just gonna mention it again - this definitely did the job of cheering me up. Also - whoops, accidental smoaking canarrow (Sara/Oliver/Felicity)…

* * *

The sound of giggling and high pitched squeals of laughter carry up the moment he unlocks the side door of Verdant, getting back after a long night of pointless patrolling. Diggle went straight home, but he needed to stop by the Foundry to change. Oliver tilts his head listening for a moment, a smile lighting his eyes as he realizes Felicity and Sara are laughing together.

He heads downstairs, making sure to be loud enough so Felicity knows he's coming

"Surprise!"

The yell is followed immediately by more giggles, and Oliver finds the two women sharing a bottle of wine (clearly not the first), and holding out a bouquet of about twenty helium balloons.

"I - what?" he asks, confused. It's not his birthday, or theirs for that matter, so -?

"Happy Monday!" Felicity declares with enthusiasm.

"Monday."

Sara snorts, pouring herself more wine and topping off Felicity's glass.

"As good a thing to celebrate as anything else, don't you think?" she asks, arching an eyebrow, with that grin that makes her cheeks dimple.

Oliver tilts his head. "Uh-huh…" he responds slowly. "And the balloons?"

Felicity swirls her glass and takes another sip, humming in approval. "I haven't gotten balloons in _forever_. I missed balloons. So I ordered some. They cheer the place up, don't you think?"

Oliver can't really argue the point. The small bright pink, yellow and orange dirigibles do indeed add a certain flair to the basement. A flair that is entirely Felicity.

He tugs his hood back and pulls off his mask, unzipping his jacket and shrugging out of it and his suspenders.

"Okay, I'm sold. Happy Monday, pour me some wine."

Four bottles later, and the three of them are completely sloshed.

"Nononononooo…" Sara slurs, pointing a wobbly finger at Oliver. "Are you seriously telling me, you've _never_ pulled the whole 'I am your father' bit with your voicy thingy?"

Felicity is braiding Sara's hair and she leans down over her shoulder, speaking in her ear. Oliver loves watching the way Sara shivers and her eyes close when Felicity's breath brushes over her skin.

"Please Sara, didn't you know? Oliver is waaaaaaaay too serious for that. Look, he's making his angry face just from you mentioning it."

"I am not," Oliver grumbles, and Felicity laughs in Sara's ear. Sara leans her head back, exposing her neck and Oliver swallows. Felicity lays a quick kiss on it before pulling back and continuing to work on Sara's braid.

"Fine," she says. "Prove it."

Oliver narrows his eyes but then nods tersely, standing up (slightly off balance) and reaching over to grab his jacket. He pulls a wire from an inside pocket, attaching the small electrode on the end to the side of his neck, just under his jaw. He hits the activation button and is just about to speak when - "

"_Luke, I am your father!"_

Sara completely loses her shit and Oliver turns in surprise to find Felicity gasping for breath, an untied helium balloon held pinched in-between her fingers. Felicity's laughter is coming out high-pitched and tinny, and each expulsion of her own helium altered breath makes her laugh even harder, until she finally manages to get enough oxygen in that her voice reverts back to normal.

"Nonono… wait, wait, even better!" Felicity inhales another deep breath of helium and then, with all the gravity she can muster, frowns and says, "_You have failed this city!_" The frown doesn't last. Halfway through the sentence she's laughing, letting go of the balloon, which fizzes around the room before landing next to Oliver, and Sara's lying down on her back, pounding her fist on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

Oliver bites his lip to try to keep a straight face, but ultimately can't hold in a violent burst of laughter. Only, he'd forgotten the voice modulator was still on, and it comes out as a deep, slightly sinister cackle.

Felicity and Sara both freeze, looking at him with wide eyes, before losing it again. And that's it. Oliver's _gone_, he can't even lift his hand up to turn off the machine, and each of his laughs just make him laugh harder.

By the time they calm down, they're out of breath. Felicity's moved to sit in his lap on the mats, and he's leaning back against a pillar. She finally pulled the electrode off his neck a few minutes ago, and his voice is back to normal. He has an arm wrapped around her waist, and his nose is buried in her hair, breathing in deeply.

"I like this," he murmurs. "We should celebrate Mondays more often."

Sara nods, getting up and settling down next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"So," she says softly, running her fingers up and down Felicity's arm. Felicity's eyes have fallen shut, and she's probably almost asleep. "We staying here tonight?"

Oliver nods.

"Okay, I'll get the sofa bed set up."

Oliver grips her arm before she can stand back up.

"Wait," he says, enjoying the feel of her by his side. "Just, wait a little bit. Then I'll help you. For now I just want to -"

Sara understands. He eyes soften and she leans back down, lacing her fingers through his.

Felicity's light snuffles begin a minute later and they both know she's fallen asleep.

"Happy Monday," Sara whispers.

Oliver leans his head back and closes his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Anonymous requested: Drabble prompt- Felicity on a juice cleanse, is all sorts of pissed off. Oliver comforts. Could be fluff or that now that she is in the limelight, she's getting a lot of criticism? Please and thank you!

* * *

"Felicity…"

"No."

"Feliiiciityyy…."

"Oliver, I said _no_."

She continued typing as though he wasn't there. Well, typing was being kind really. It was more like murdering the keyboard, taking out her frustration and anger on the qwerty line.

Oliver picked up the faint sound of Felicity's stomach grumbling yet again, from where he was perched on the edge of her desk. The morning rush had died down, and Oliver was ready to take a well earned break. _Most_ people were out getting lunch about now.

And Felicity had been on a juice cleanse for three days.

He'd asked her why she thought she needed to do this two days ago, which had sent her into a twenty minute rant about how _men_ didn't need to worry about how _they_ fit in to their tuxes when they got married, and the unfair beauty standards set for _women_, _especially_ on a day that should be about_them_, and _why, God, why_ had she eaten all those fries last week? her dress was _never_ going to fit her now, and the stress was just too much, she couldn't_take_ it anymore!

Then the tears had come.

Oliver was coming to resent whatever wedding dress Felicity and Thea had decided on. He'd spent an hour calming his fiance down. Not much sent Felicity into hysterics, but apparently this wedding was causing her endless amounts of stress, especially as the day drew nearer, and he'd wondered, not for the first time, if they shouldn't have just eloped.

Felicity had been stomping around the office all morning (as well as one could in the heels she was wearing), and Oliver was sure of two things: One, being hungry was not helping the situation. Two, there was very little a bottle of expensive red wine couldn't cure when it came to his future wife.

Oliver smiled softly, watching her glare furiously at her screen, affection warring with amusement.

"What?" she asked, her glare now aimed at him.

Oliver shrugged. "I love you," he said, the words and sentiment now a simple fact of his every day life, one he shared regularly.

He counted three seconds in his head before Felicity's eyes finally softened. "I love you too."

Oliver nodded. "Okay, so come get lunch with me, please?"

Felicity sighed. "Oliver…"

"No, listen. We're getting married in _four_ days. Unless you binge eat deep fried chocolate from now until then, your dress is going to fit you just fine." Oliver stood from the desk and reached over, taking both of her hands in his and pulling her up. Felicity bit at her lower lip, looking uncertain.

"I for one, would really love for you to spend the next few days happy and relaxed. We're getting married Felicity. It's not the end of the story, it's the beginning, and the wedding? It's just the _party_. _One_ party. And we're going to have so many more - we're going to have birthdays and anniversaries, and hopefully a couple of_baby showers_…" He smiled down at her, and now she was biting her lip to keep from smiling.

Oliver wasn't having any of it. He tugged her lip free with his thumb and leaned down, kissing her lightly. When he pulled away, Felicity hummed in contentment.

"Baby showers, huh?"

Oliver nodded. "Absolutely. At _least_ six or seven of them."

Felicity laughed then, the sound finally dissipating the tension he'd felt in the office since this morning.

"If you want seven kids, _you_ can give birth to them, Oh Great and Powerful Arrow."

Oliver grinned, and huffed out a quick breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling before looking back down. He brushed his thumb along Felicity's cheekbone and she leaned in the touch.

"Have lunch with me?" he asked.

A pause and then –

"Okay."


	6. Original Sin

For ohmypreciousgirl, naturemanda and andymcnope on tumblr who wanted body shots. Smoaking Canarrow style.

* * *

It was like a scene out of every college fantasy he'd ever had.

He'd come down the foundry steps silently, vaguely wondering where everyone had gone. Diggle had the night off, but Felicity should be here, and he hadn't seen Sara behind the bar upstairs. As he started to strip out of his gear, removing his hood and mask and putting his bow where it belonged, he'd heard a low moan and a giggle from somewhere near the back of the lair. Instinct had him freezing, muscles clenched, ready to attack, before he identified the two voices - Felicity and Sara. Curious, he followed the sounds of soft laughter and froze when he found Felicity sprawled on a spare medical table, shirt and bra discarded on the floor, nipples rosy and tight in the cool air.

Sara was walking her fingers down the valley between Felicity's breasts, grinning, reaching out to tweak a nipple with her thumb while Felicity moaned.

She licked a stripe beneath one mound and reached to Felicity's other side, grabbing a salt shaker that stood next to a bottle of tequila and a bowl of lime slices that Oliver hadn't noticed, because, well, yeah… She shook some salt out onto the damp stripe, and unscrewed the cap on the tequila.

"Ready?" she asked Felicity breathlessly.

Felicity didn't respond, just opened her mouth, and God, Oliver was already hard imagining the possibilities. Sara poured a little bit of tequila into Felicity's mouth, then promptly licked the salt from her skin, nipping slightly, and then leaned over and kissed her.

The kiss was deep, intense. Oliver could imagine Sara's tongue sweeping through Felicity's mouth, capturing every last drop of tequila, the saltiness on her tongue permeating Felicity's senses as well. He clenched his jaw, palms itching to touch both of them as Sara pulled away smirking, and grabbed two lime slices, biting into one and handing the other down to Felicity, like some delicious and oh-so-wrong twist on the story of Eden.

Felicity hummed in appreciation, and Sara smiled before looking up, straight at him.

"We have an audience," she said softly, nodding her head towards Oliver.

Felicity turned and let out a surprised little, "Oh!"

The quiet settled around them as Oliver tensed, wondering what would happen next, now that he'd been caught.

Then, eyes never leaving his, Felicity slowly brought her wrist up to her mouth and licked the inside. Sara shook some salt onto the delicate skin and then Felicity was reaching the same hand out to him.

"Want a taste?"


	7. Chapter 7

naturemanda on tumblr requested: olicity + coffee. because i'm making my coffee.

* * *

She doesn't make him coffee at the office.

Not unless it's one of those days where he feels like he's been battered from all directions, thrown up against the walls that separate his numerous lives and lies, and every attempt at doing what's right and good has been turned on it's head and twisted until he can't recognize what he set out to do in the first place, until he doesn't know what he's doing at all. Until he's just… so… tired.

She knows. On those days, somehow, Felicity knows that his soul and his psyche have been beaten down beneath the weight of obligation, and guilt, and public opinion. And as he sits hunched at his desk, shoulders slumping forward, curling in on himself to try to block it all out, he'll smell the distinct scent of the ground coffee beans she special ordered from Turkey, and look up to find her setting down a steaming cup with just a touch of milk at his desk, and a soft smile of encouragement he finds more invigorating than the caffeine.

Sometimes, she'll make him coffee in the foundry.

On stormy nights, when he comes back from patrol dripping in his leathers, the bite of the rain seeping in between the pieces of his suit, where the sleeve meets his shoulder, or through the zipper, soaking the cloth of his hood and sliding down his back. Drenched, cold, it doesn't matter whether the patrol was a success, or whether he feels like he could have done more, been faster, stronger, better.

On those nights, he's closer to the island, the physical discomfort of the damp and chill blurring the lines of the warm reality he's built for himself, and as he comes down the foundry stairs, footsteps lagging because (_danger, enemies, can they see me if i can't see them?_) of the cycle playing over and over in his head, he catches the smell of strong Colombian roast, with a touch of cinnamon for heat, and she'll be waiting at the bottom with a towel and a mug that's hot, but just cool enough to drink right away. She puts sugar in his coffee on those nights, like she knows the added sweetness will tether him to reality - one where things like hot showers, and soft beds and _her_ exist.

She makes him coffee every Sunday morning.

Their weeks are whirlwinds, mornings scrambling to get out on time - they learned early on that it was much faster to shower separately than together (they cheat sometimes), rushing to look presentable, Felicity particularly frazzled as she meticulously applies any of a number of bright lipsticks, all because they stayed in bed for an extra ten minutes (_"Mmmm'Oliver so warm… turn off the alarm…" Stretching legs out, toes touching, burrowing deeper into each other._)

Nights are defined by green leather and the hum of computers, the crackle of the comm link in his ears, and his stomach clenched in the anticipation of a fight. They fall into bed in the small hours of morning, sometimes they're frenzied, biting and sucking at each other, relieving the tension of too many hours pretending to be anything but what they are right in that moment, two bodies sharing one soul; sometimes it's slow and soft and _so necessary_, they both need that reassurance that they are loved, intensely, completely. Sometimes they just fall asleep, and the world is blocked out for a time by the huge down blanket on Felicity's bed, a battlement of soft feathers guarding them against treachery.

But Sundays are theirs. Some are a haze of gold curls, and delicate patterns traced into marred skin, and fluttering kisses as they fall in and out of consciousness, in and out of each other. It's fuzzy, like dust motes floating in beams of sunlight. Others are sharp - being woken up by someone yelling on the street below or by the construction work from two floors down, the smell of Felicity's nail polish as he paints her toes, her laugh, going out for ice cream, little slices of the life he thought he'd never have but wanted and ached for in the deepest corners of his heart.

And Felicity always makes coffee. The smell of it percolating in the kitchen drifts through the apartment, finding him, curling around him and bringing him to her. He'll sit down at the table and watch her, adding milk and sugar, because Sunday coffee is like Sundays, sweet and soft and warm, and when he drinks it, watching her drink hers across the table, he knows what love feels like.


End file.
